


Rapture Reminded

by Sleepymachine



Category: BioShock
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:49:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8409217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepymachine/pseuds/Sleepymachine
Summary: AU in which Rapture doesn't fall. (and splicing doesn't drive people insane)





	1. Who Is Atlas?

The ceiling of Jack's bedroom is dark. The faint blue light pouring in from the window dances on the roof like the waves of the ocean outside. Jack lies awake in the dark, listening to the soft hum of machinery and the low wails of the sea. He puts out his cigarette and rolls out of bed. He pulls on his clothes with tired limbs, and writes himself a note to call his mother.

He takes a cramped bathysphere to work, body crammed against several others. It's always a bit uncomfortable-being so close to so many other men. When he steps out of the pod, Jack takes a minute to stretch. He walks the short distance to the record store, giving Cobb a small wave as he takes his place behind the counter. His job isn't stimulating. In his opinion, most of Cohen's music sounds the same. Of course he'd never say that out loud. Two patrons catch Jack's attention with their whisperings. They converse about a man named Atlas, though neither of them seem to know him very well. He isn't sure why, but he's instantly enthralled. He wants to know more about the man, maybe even meet him. The rest of his shift is a blur. His thoughts stick with the two customers he'd overheard earlier. He tells Cobb good night, and makes his way to the small bar behind Le Marquis D'Epoque.

Jack wasn't a drinker-many of the people in Rapture could have been considered social alcoholics-but something had drawn him to the thought of a drink after work. The bar is mostly empty, save for a booth of women in the back, and a man at the bar. Jack sits a few stools away, eyes locked on the glass of amber liquid in front of him. It burns his throat, and he lets out a soft cough. He doesn't hear the man move. When he looks up, the man is leant against the bar next to him, eyes looking him over like a show dog. As if he's decided something, the man asks the bartender for another glass of whiskey, and seats himself next to Jack. Jack takes the moment to observe the other man. He's tall, but not slim. He's got short blond hair, and sharp blue eyes. his face is angular, like a sculpture. Jack wonders if he's staring. He's nearly sure he is.  

"You got a name, boyo?"

The mans voice breaks him out of his thoughts. His accent is thick, but pleasant on the ears. 

Jack nods, and gives the man his first name. He feels oddly childish doing so. 

The man flashes him a winning smile, sliding one of the glasses of whiskey over to him. Jack can't tell if the heat in his gut is the beer. He hopes it is. 

"Names Atlas." 


	2. It Had To Be You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack tells his mother about Atlas.

Jack uses certain words to describe the man he's met. 

_Strong._ _Atlas has a strong personality. A strong voice. Drinks strong liquor._

_Bold. Atlas has bold eyes. Bold ideas._

_Beautiful. Atlas is beautiful. In body and mind._

Jasmine sits in her armchair and smiles. She's never doubted her son's judgement, but she's heard of this man, Atlas. Heard what he says, what he believes. What he wants to do. It brings an uneasy feeling upon her. She loves her son, of course, but she's frightened. Frightened he'll be caught in something much bigger, and much more dangerous than himself. 

 _"And he wants to meet you for dinner?"_ she asks at the first sign of silence,  _"Where did you say?"_

Jack's face lights up again, smile timid but bright. his eyes-one brown, and one blue-stay locked on the ground. She's never seen him like this-and isn't sure what to make of it. 

 _"The Kashmir,"_ Jack's never been, but he knows its definitely more high-brow than he's used to. He's used to drinking out behind the record store with Silas, and eating most anything he could get. To have someone buying him dinner is beyond him. He's not sure whether he's more nervous or excited. 

As if compelled by something, Jack says goodnight, and leaves. 

Jasmine isn't sure what her son is getting into. She's certain she won't like it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine Jolene lives in Olympus Heights; Jack visits most weekends.   
> I'll be writing a companion piece to this work that explains the AU more in depth soon!


	3. Please Be Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the Kashmir.

Atlas picks him up at 7:00. 

Jack feels overwhelmingly underdressed-his nicest clothing is a wool sweater and slacks-but Atas doesn't seem to mind. Maybe he doesn't notice. 

As they walk, Jack finds himself staring at the other man, as if he's said something utterly fascinating. In reality, Atlas talks mostly about politics-something Jack had never taken an interest in. He learns that Atlas dislikes Andrew Ryan. Dislikes Augustus Sinclair. _Hates Frank Fontaine_. 

The Kashmir is one of the largest-or at least most lavish-buildings Jack has ever seen. The smell of food, wine, and cigarette smoke is heavy. The chatter of Rapture's upper class is a dulled hum, mingling in the air with the soft music from a phonograph. Atlas speaks to the Host while Jack is busy marveling at the large statue of Andrew Ryan over a small balcony. An arm snakes around the small of his back, and Atlas' guides him to a table. The booth is secluded enough-had the other man asked for it that way?-but has a pretty view of the sea. Jack feels only slightly anxious at making a fool of himself. 

 _"Tell me about you, boyo,"_ Atlas' voice shakes him from his thoughts,  _"you've heard enough about me for a lifetime,"_

Jack thinks for a moment about the best way to say 'I'm nobody'. 

 _"I work at the record store. The one at Cohen's."_ is all he musters the confidence to say. He's already worried enough about frightening Atlas off, it wouldn't do to bore him to death. Atlas, ever the patient man, smiles and nods. He takes over the conversation again, not that Jack minds. 

By his fifth glass of wine, Jack is starting to feel amazing. He talks again, mostly about Fort Frolic. It's all he knows, really. He voices his opinion of Cohen a  _bit too loudly,_ which makes Atlas laugh. He recommends records to Atlas, though he has no idea what the man likes. 

Dinner is a blur. Jack remembers possibly eating a steak, but he isn't sure. His attention is mostly on Atlas.

The host shows the two out, exchanging more quiet words with Atlas, who laughs, but looks a bit uneasy. He walks Jack home, reminding him how much he'd had to drink. 

 _"What was the waiter saying to you?"_ Jack blurts out, the drunken vigor wearing thin, " _I didn't do something stupid, did I?"_

Atlas laughs-was it funny?-and shrugs.  _"Asked if you were my partner, Jack. Told him hopefully."_

Atlas leads him inside, to the sofa, and grabs Jack's quilt from his bed. He tosses it over his form lightly, and chuckles to himself. Jack is already asleep. 

He leaves a note on the coffee table, and leaves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long chapter, my bad. didn't want to break it up into 2 or 3 small chapters.


End file.
